“Monday morning commute is worse than having a panic attack, Doc.”
“How so?”
“Well, my heart rate accelerates onto the freeway, and I have this irrational fear that I will have no control over what lane I end up in.”
“That does sound irrational. Anything else?”
“Well, there’s the excess perspiration at red lights. And my hands tremble when I get caught on an overpass. It’s so bad that the sound of the horn gives me hot flashes.”
“Do you feel the same way on Tuesdays?”
“Am I imagining it, or is the traffic holding its breath? Sky, a tense diaphragm, coughing up clouds until we’re all dizzy.”
“You’re definitely projecting those emotions.”
“Maybe, Doc. But I can’t even say merge or yield without a tightness in my throat. Anxiety is exhaustion.”
“Have you ever considered a carpool? Water imagery is much more relaxing.”
d’Verse Poet’s Pub | Prosery: Twice Shy-144 words with lines from “Twice Shy” by Seamus Heaney ‘Traffic holding its breath, Sky a tense diaphragm’
Artwork: Maksim Dimitrov
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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